


of quotidian protuberance

by erdefleur



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Gen, SAE18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 17:56:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13618626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erdefleur/pseuds/erdefleur
Summary: at sixteen years old, izaya learnt there was another form of language besides tongue.





	of quotidian protuberance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonwaltz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonwaltz/gifts).



> for your precaution; i only watched drrr!! season 1 when it was first came out 8 years ago, and i kind of had to grasp my memory of it. this was written for moonwaltz, since she had requested it a long time ago.

At sixteen years old, Izaya learnt there was another form of language besides tongue.

He figured it out between smokes, silvery spirals of bitterness cajoling his mind into understanding as he sat down on top of the electric pole. He adjusted his camera so the lens would capture the human lightpole figure better, wouldn't miss the stray of blood on the pale cheek all the way to his blonde hair. Or his empty eyes. It almost felt like a movie; the wooden expression of the unknown man and his blatant disregard of self control as if the open wounds didn't bother him at all, as he stomped on his enemy beneath into oblivion. Izaya took a note.

* * *

He'd been a rat as long as he remembered, and tonight's earnings made him a bit delirious.

Phised passwords were all completed; hundreds of collected emails and private infos seeping through his fingers as they drugged him high, and hard. Closeted secrets and evidences, minutes shy of an hour of reading, Izaya closed the terminal window and breathed into air.

His new source of shenanigans was a bit of complexity. but dear, he liked things complex.

* * *

There's something irresistible about it; the hard knuckles flew in jovial cadence despite static face, aside of occasional grunts here and then, the unrestrained force of this very predictable man destroying anything that's blocking his way. Izaya thought this was such a shame, a little piece of mediocre shit letting his expectation down. Until he saw him saved a girl from purse snatchers.

He rewound the video back, once again. Twice. Stopped. There's conflict of interest there, he sensed. A flick of altruism, albeit begrudgingly. Good, Izaya thought, fascinating. More.

Give me more.

* * *

He called him out on the road, verging on singsong. Heiwajima Shizuo didn't even glance before his hand was bloody all over to his shirt. Izaya retracted his pocket knife and licked the remnant of drops on it. "You know that ignorant is a crime, shizuo-kun?"

"What," he stared down, uninterested tranquility played on his face like a robot, "do you want."

Izaya threw the bait, spitting out the beloved younger brother's name. That resulted in a feigned reaction, great. He fueled it with singing potential scandal's material, and smiled.

The stars looked dull compared to the classical mechanics of action and reaction below them. Izaya masterfully jumping between vending machines and electric poles, out of fantastic aim. Shizuo chased him out until the sky's all black.

* * *

Almost ninety two percent Izaya escaped successfully, other times Shizuo got him good. Nothing fancy though. He was all mouth and brain, no muscles after all. He was weak.

Recently in his bathroom all he could see was purplish skin behind smeared blood residues, and tired satisfactory in his eyes. Later at night he dozed off on double dosage of painkillers, and things turned more vivid than his recent dreams; strong hand hung casually on the side of the alleyway as neon lights fell upon the line of his back. The smokes from the cigarette between his fingers swirled around his damp blonde hair.

And when Izaya closed his eyes he could heard his scream, his voice was the most mesmerizing thing he had ever heard, the hidden veins on his neck turned visible, Izaya loved it, and he completely loved the fireworks inside his watery eyes.

* * *

Enemies were there to pinpoint your weaknesses. And it just so happened that he was especially adept at nosing into people's secret. It's the most beautiful thing about human, after all. Today though he was here to do business.

"Say, how about we cooperate with each other?"  
Shizuo saw right through his bullshit. he didn't turn his head as he sent one creeping behind his back to the sunset.

"You mean you use me. you just want to manipulate people." That's the longest sentence Izaya had ever gotten, and the best as an affirmative if any. It didn't stop there, Shizuo opted to follow up with a question himself.

"What do you?"

This conversation was brute, as they had always been to each other. Strangely this time, between beating down pesky criminals under what looked-like haunted bridge, it kind of felt civil. No vending machines or broken door thrown to his direction. Almost polite even. This was a new area. Izaya decided to improvise.

"Me?" though there's a smile in his voice, simple and daunting, he decided insolence was still the best policy, "I'm just fucking bored."

* * *

 

One day a bird chipped on his window and his face was plastered all over the six o'clock news. They called him monster, Izaya nodded in agreement. They went on to analyze his personality and erratic behavior. Big words and verdict and whatsoever.

The unstoppable monster Heiwajima Shizuo. the inhuman, mental new resident of Ikebukuro.

Fantastic. Izaya dismissed the talking screen; self fucking proclaimed psychologists, throwing label as soon as they didn't know where to fit unknown things. Every human was a monster, Izaya was just content to refer to him as the prude.

* * *

He flicked the metal lighter open. Swung it between his fingers. Played with its fire. The cracking sea of tarmac beneath his feet failed to distract his eyes from immersing themselves into the scene.

The world hung in a state of suspended animations as he watched; stood animatedly across him was the very embodiment of a human who spoke with his joints, saw with his knuckles, and sang with his shins. He was dancing all around the place, kicking cameos who came to his stage, wrecking them, the tunes of their breaking joints were marvelous.

The police labelled it violence, Izaya called it art, a sort of escapism, if you were too virgin to notice. _'_

_What do you want to escape from?_

_The world._

_How convenient._

* * *

Sometimes the light would trick him into thinking that it was beautiful. Or he was just hallucinating, just like every other people who's an inch from death. He looked again at him, between remaining breaths. It was still all there; the seething, even if it's subdued.

"This doesn't suit you. dying."

He was quite breathy as well, his eyes flickered as the sunlight above them permeated into his peripheral making things blurry.

"How fortunate, i think it suits you well."

For a moment there was a silence that pervaded through the asphalt, through the bone marrows. The kind of silence that felt that they were the only people awake in the entire world. Izaya forced himself to get up. On the corner his eyes, he saw Shizuo did the same.

"No one beats me in that sense, heh?"

"What." He stumbled, almost falling once again. Izaya didn't have anything left in his bone to laugh.

"Don't you pretend with me. You did use me as venting outlet, Shizu-chan."

"And you used me to make you feel relevant."

Izaya smiled, his fingers were beyond help, he couldn't feel them at all. Though he could still make them work.

"Touche. aren't we the perfect co-stars."

When he looked up, Shizuo had already leaned on to the electric pole, looking all calm and content like it was the most obvious thing to do. The open wounds and draining bloods would convince people otherwise, but Izaya knew better.

And he took it back; _he was kind of beautiful after all._

"Weak."

"Indeed," the last thing naturally came to his mind was he wanted to taste this exhausted man.

So he did: he opened his holster, circling his fingers around the trigger; two pointed metals for each of them.

To reach a singularity.


End file.
